


hair spills through my dreams

by mutents



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Fix-It, Hair Kink, Headaches & Migraines, Incest, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutents/pseuds/mutents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before a bomb took their parents, before the street took their innocence, and before a bullet took his breath, Pietro loved watching his mother brush his sister's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hair spills through my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, this was all inspired by the fact that in the CA:TWS stinger, Pietro had long hair, but it was short by A:AOU.
> 
> Also, it's tagged as incest. In fact, it's literally tagged _three times_. If you're not down, don't read it.

Before a bomb took their parents, before the street took their innocence, and before a bullet took his breath, Pietro loved watching his mother brush his sister's hair.

Their mother had been a beautiful woman, with blonde curls that fell in perfect ringlets. She would sit up long after they had gone to bed, tinkering with her curlers in the bathroom beside their room. But, before she sent the two twins off to bed, she would sit with Wanda on her bed and brush her hair, always with exactly one hundred strokes.

Pietro would always sit across from them on his own bed, pretending to read a book or to play with an old Captain America action figure. In reality, he would watch as his mother brushed his twins hair. He had seen how the action always calmed his younger sister, how her eyes would go from alert at the first swipe, to drooping by the last. Something about the hairbrush dancing across her hair had done the same thing to Pietro, and he would have put his book or toy away around the fiftieth stroke, and be tucked under his blanket by the seventy-fifth.

* * *

After the loss of their parents, Pietro had watched as his sister's once beautiful locks had become a tangled nest. After they had managed to find a safe hiding spot, trying to protect themselves from Sokovia's sloppy social services, he had stolen a hairbrush from a nearby corner store and tried to rid Wanda's hair of it's snarls.

They had cried together when it failed to take out even the smallest of knots.

The next day Pietro had returned to the corner store, though this time he plucked a scissor and a loaf of bread from their selves.

When he had taken the shears to his sisters curls, taking the first cut from the base of her head, he had had to be careful because of her shaking. She had been quiet, but Pietro had always known when Wanda was crying, and now was no different. He was glad that she could not see his eyes, as he could feel the tears that were slipping from them to his cheeks to his chin.

* * *

Wanda's hair had grown in the three years they had lived on the streets; now the waves just brushed against her shoulders. Pietro had long before taken up the task their mother had once preformed. No matter where they found themselves laying their head, he would find a way to brush her hair every evening. It had gotten them strange looks once or twice, when they were staying with others. But it never bother the twins.

If anything, the act was a comfort.

* * *

Before the first protest they had attended, a fifteen year old Wanda had quietly asked Pietro to pull her hair into a ponytail, offering him a ragged hair tie to use. He had given her a smile, hoping it hid the nerves that were filling his stomach, and nodded.

When one of the Sokovian "peace" keepers had used his sister's gathered hair to grab onto her, he had punched the man with a force he saved for threats against Wanda.

As the two had sat in a cell that evening, having both been arrested during the riot that the protest had become, Wanda had silently pulled Pietro's head into her lap. He had tried to stay awake, the need to protect her still filling his senses. The brush of her fingers against his scalp had proven to be a more powerful force. He found he could also finally understand why Wanda had always been so calmed by their mother's ministrations.

* * *

The first time Wanda had pulled him to her for a kiss, she had wrapped her fingers tightly in his curls and tugged. They had just escaped from the police after yet another protest had turned violent. They had been running on adrenaline and fear and passion.

That was what Pietro had brushed the kiss off as, because Wanda had jerked away from him after mere moments had passed.

That night she had brushed her own hair.

* * *

When Wanda began to get migraines when they were sixteen, she had finally let Pietro's hand return to her hair. She had been quietly moaning in her sleep that night, but Pietro had always felt like her quietest sounds of pain were screams. He had lightly shaken her awake, thinking it was simply a nightmare.

She had whimpered upon waking up, throwing a hand over her eyes as the sound passed her lips. After a minute of silence, she whispered a plea to her brother.

Pietro had happily done his sister's bidding, letting his fingers dance across her scull in the most comforting manor he could.

She'd fallen asleep with another moan, but this one was one of content.

* * *

Before Strucker's first experiment, Wanda and Pietro had been allowed to see each other for a few fleeting minutes. Pietro had simply asked for a hairbrush.

* * *

After the first experiment, while Pietro ran around the small cell he was confined to, he would occasionally stop to grab his head. He would tightly grip his long curls - far longer than he preferred - and his hands would shake in an almost-massage.

It might have been comforting if it had been a more feminine pair of hands.

* * *

With the end of the final test come their reunion. They had been lucky enough to be in adjoining cells, and once Wanda's mind reading had begun they had talked that way. It had been hardly enough though.

The first thing Pietro did after running to his sister was slip his fingers into her hair, a small sigh accompanying the action.

Wanda had done the same mere moments later, though to Pietro it felt like years. He still wasn't quiet used to the  _slowness_ of everyone else. A slight pressure had been added to her hands though, tugging him down closer to her once more.

When her lips had pressed to his, he had been grateful for the increase in seconds.

* * *

A week before the Avengers had arrived, with the man who's name had been scrawled across that fateful bomb at the helm, Wanda had given Pietro a haircut.

She had been clucking at him for weeks, shaking her head with a smile every time she saw his long curls. The second or third time she had added a comment about him beginning to look like a girl. He had silenced that thought with a press of his lips to her own, followed by a overture he'd been incapable of if female.

He had finally acquiesced though, offering his sister the scissors silently that evening while placing a kiss to her own hair.

She had made swift work of his long hair, letting a large lock fall to the floor with each snip. When she had finished in the front, her small body standing between his legs, she had set the shears down on the table next to him and placed the now empty hands on the sides of his face. She had placed a chaste kiss to his lips, one that quickly became more passionate.

* * *

When Pietro had awoken to a bright white light and a hospital bed, the first thing he had felt was his sister's fingers playing though his curls. The hair there was much longer now, certainly longer than if it had been if cut two weeks before.

When Wanda's eyes had caught his own, she'd given him a watery grin and tugged his lips to hers.

"I am glad you will live to see my hair turn grey as well."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I wrote 1200+ words of hair kink.
> 
> _The fuck._


End file.
